


Clean

by baheti



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Denial, M/M, Pining, Sexuality, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baheti/pseuds/baheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Louis knows that Harry has seen that his eyes and his fingers have lingered longer on Harry’s body than on anything, or anyone, else. Louis refuses to accept that he might be into men in any sense. It’s become his mantra, whenever he has to remind himself that he can’t be, isn’t, attracted to men. Not into men. Not into dudes. Not into guys. Not into men. Not into men. Not into guys. Not into… His breath catches as the image of Harry pressing him into a mattress flashes in his mind, as he thinks about how it would feel to grip Harry’s shoulders, to arch his back and claw at the mattress as Harry-"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean

Louis lets out a breath as he tilts his head forward into the hot water of the shower, steadying himself against the shower wall with his left hand, his other arm crossed in front of his stomach in a semi-hug, trying everything he can to stop his hand from moving down to touch himself. To touch himself at the thought of Harry’s lips on that water bottle, of Harry’s… massive… hand on Louis’ shoulder that one time, Harry’s own broad shoulders, especially the way Harry had let out a low moan in his dream the other night, and how that had made Louis harder than he could ever make himself.

Louis knows that Harry has seen that his eyes and his fingers have lingered longer on Harry’s body than on anything, or anyone, else. Louis refuses to accept that he might be into men in any sense. It’s become his mantra, whenever he has to remind himself that he can’t be, isn’t, attracted to men. _Not into men. Not into dudes. Not into guys. Not into men. Not into men. Not into guys. Not into…_ His breath catches as the image of Harry pressing him into a mattress flashes in his mind, as he thinks about how it would feel to grip Harry’s shoulders, to arch his back and claw at the mattress as Harry-

There’s a low knock at the door, much softer than Louis’ heartbeat, and he suppresses a scream. _Please, not now, I can’t be seen right now._ His voice trembles a little bit as he responds with a soft ‘yeah?’ and the door clicks open. Louis looks up as Harry slips in, closing the door carefully, almost silently behind him. The air is still now, the water from the shower the only noise in the bathroom, perhaps in the entire world, and Harry’s eyes lift up and meet Louis’. Neither of them seem to be breathing. When Harry makes no move to use any other part of the bathroom, Louis raises his eyebrow, his body tense. Harry faces Louis straight on.

“Don’t make a sound.” His voice is low and soft, and Louis wills his cock to stay semi-soft. He momentarily considers turning the shower cold, just to keep himself in check, but he remains still, his body suddenly aching.

Harry holds Louis’ gaze for a few seconds, no hesitation showing anywhere on his face, before his eyes trace down Louis’ body. The tension grows in Louis’ stomach as a pang runs down his body. Bringing his eyes back up to meet Louis’, Harry steps forward over the rim of the bathtub into the shower, suddenly making Louis frighteningly aware of his own nakedness. That thought is cut off by the swift motion of Harry’s hands pushing Louis against the shower wall tiles as Harry faces Louis, the water coming down on their sides. Harry’s taut white shirt quickly becomes partially see-through, and Louis notices the soft yet taut abs underneath, the wide shoulders, the defined biceps, and he has to stifle a low groan. Harry presses closer, his palm above Louis’ hip, fingers spread, keeping Louis still against the cool tiles, his own hips inches away.

“You can put your hands on me.” Harry breaks the silence, but his voice is low, almost a mumble, not insecure but with a hint of danger, as if he’s daring Louis. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“No, I’m not-, I’m...”

Harry presses his closed lips to Louis’ neck, humming a little bit in a way that sends a shiver down Louis’ back and a throb to his groin. He’s hard now. He knows. Harry must know too.

“Mmhhmm…” Harry moves his hand up to Louis’ waist as he kisses at his neck. Louis can’t bring himself to push Harry away, but he can make enough sense of the rushing thoughts in his head to know that touching Harry at all would be too much. He can’t remain still though, and he lets his head tip back as Harry brings his other hand up to grip the hair at the base of Louis’ neck, giving Harry more access to the soft skin of his neck, his lips burning each time he hums near Louis’ ear. Louis compensates for this moment of weakness by pressing his hands against the shower wall by his hips, steadying himself. Even as he does, Harry moves his lips down Louis’ jaw in kisses that get harder, more desperate, and he releases his hand from the hair at the nape of Louis’ neck to wrap both arms around Louis’ waist. Harry pulls him closer, and Louis’ naked body is now pressed against the soaked material of Harry’s white t-shirt and tight black pants, making him realize that Harry is just as hard as he is.

“Louis, baby, please touch me…”

“I can’t.” _It would ruin everything._

“Louis, please, I want you so badly. I can tell you want me too.”

“I can’t.” Louis feels tears of both stress and sadness at the corners of his eyes.

“Every part of my body aches when I think about you.”

_I know. I know how that feels. I feel it too. But it shouldn’t feel like that. It can’t feel like that. It can’t be our secret, because I would know._

“I can’t.”

The tension leaves at that point. Harry’s shoulders drop, and he leans into Louis, pressing his face into the other boy’s shoulder. They are both hard, Harry straining against his wet jeans, but the sexual tension is gone.

Louis’ voice drops to a whisper, barely audible over the still running shower. There is no teasing in his eyes as he leans his head forward and straightens up.

“I’m sorry. I can’t, Harry. I can’t touch you.”

“Ask me to touch you, then. Whatever you want. Wherever you want.”

“Harry…”

Louis watches as Harry sinks to his knees. _Oh no._

Harry’s thumbs frame Louis’ hip bones.

“Ask me to touch you.” Harry presses his lips to the inside of Louis’ thigh. He sucks a bruise into the soft skin. Louis feels his legs go weak.

“Ask me, Louis, just say please, even.”

Louis reaches out for something to steady himself, something to grab onto, but finds nothing.

_Not into men. Not into dudes. Not into guys. Not into men. Not into men. Not into guys. Not into…_

“No, Harry, no.”

Harry freezes, his eyes staring straight ahead. Slowly he gets up, not looking Louis in the eyes for a while. When he finally does, he only seems confused. He reaches up to touch Louis’ face, to cup his jaw, but Louis pulls away as some resolute self-control finally returns to him. Everything goes silent as Harry slightly recoils, and then nearly trips over himself as he leaves Louis in the now-cold shower, slamming the bathroom behind him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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